


Christmas Mishaps at the Garrison

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since several great authors here are doing Xmas drabbles I thought I would as well when time permits me.</p><p>These may be physical or emotional mishaps but all in good fun.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Timber

"Rene, help them at the other end!" D'Artagnan hollered out, wincing as the groans of his fellow comrades reached his ears. They have been hard at it for over a half an hour and have yet to steady the huge tree d'Artagnan had picked out to go in the center of the courtyard. It was very tall, going slightly past Captain Treville's balcony.

"Why is it tilting in that odd way?" Looking bewildered, d'Artagnan hung his head, covering his eyes with a gloved hand, "Will someone please tell me that?"

"Still not done," Aramis chuckled as he joined the boy, ruffling d'Artagna's hair playfully. It wasn't appreciated by the younger man as the boy batted Aramis's hand away in irritation.

"Non! And at this rate Christmas will be upon us and past before the men are finished." D'Artagnan's scowl darkened even further at the sight of the tree listing to one side now like a drunken Porthos. "We'll be here all day until you get it right!" d'Artagnan shouted again.

"You sound more and more like me everyday," Athos remarked dryly as he came to watch the proceedings, or lack thereof.

"Yeah," Porthos agreed. "How come you're orderin' and not helpin'?"

Huffing in exasperation, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Because I have more experience at this," he sighed as he dredged up painful memories of his past childhood. "Father showed me how to pick the best tree and how to erect and take care of it once we brought it into our home." Watching the men trying and failing yet again to right the tree, d'Artagnan turned his back on everything for a moment, studying the dirt beneath his boots as if it held all the answers. His three friends stood silently by his side, a steady presence that helped d'Artagnan immensely. Turning swiftly back around, he smiled. "I've got an idea."

++++

*An hour later*

"That was brilliant," Aramis congratulated the youngster, "having those ties rigged up to the buildings and staked into the ground." He slapped the boy on the back.

"My thanks." D'Artagnan stared at the tree thinking it looked rather dull. "Now we need to concentrate on decorations for it." And just like that, all the men who had volunteered scattered to the four winds. "Oh well, perhaps not," d'Artagnan muttered and started to walk away with the inseparables until he heard a mighty crash behind him.

"Mon dieu!" Porthos exclaimed as the tree's weight broke the ties and nearly crushed poor Serge as the man had poked his head out to make a call for dinner to be served.

Placing a hand on d'Artagnan's bent head, Athos whispered to the boy. "Faint heart never won any battles."

Mouth open in stunned disbelief, d'Artagnan watched his friends saunter away. Throwing up his hands he yelled at them. "That's your idea of advice?"

"D'Artagnan," Treville's voice rang out from the balcony where he had been watching the catastrophe ensue. "What happened to the tree?"

The End (for now, eh?)


	2. Underneath the Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Xmas drabble...

*Athos's apartment*

Helping his friend decorate for the festive season that was nearly upon them, d'Artagnan was stumped when he noticed a sprig of mistletoe suspended by a hook in the middle of the room. "Athos, are you aware you have mistletoe dangling from on high?"

"Aramis's idea of a joke," Athos grumbled. The only reason he agreed to these decorations in the first place was for the boy's sake. It would be his first Christmas without his father and away from Lupiac. But Aramis had to go just that extra mile and the next thing Athos knew... he had mistletoe.

"Perhaps he felt you'd get lucky," d'Artagnan's lips twitched and he ducked his head so his friend wouldn't see the smile blossoming on d'Artagnan's face.

"Not you too," Athos rolled his eyes. Helping the boy hang some holly above the mantle, he heard knocking at his door.

"I'll get it," d'Artagnan offered. When he came back, d'Artagnan was grinning from ear to ear. "Look what the wind blew in?" Pushing their visitor gently toward Athos, d'Artagnan watched the older man's mouth fall open in shock.

"Ninon, what the deuce are you doing here?" Athos was more than pleased to see her. Though truth be told, Ninon risked much returning to Paris.

"Queen Anne has summoned me back to spend Christmas at the palace with her and the king," Ninon's eyes sparkled merrily. "Despite the cardinal's edict." She saw Athos's face relax as he realized Ninon wouldn't suffer for her visit.

Clearing his throat, d'Artagnan tried to get the woman's attention, and with his eyes indicated where the innocent mistletoe hung.

Dipping her head in acknowledgement, somehow Ninon managed to maneuver Athos directly underneath it and gave him a lingering kiss on his mouth.

"Told you you'd get lucky," d'Artagnan snorted.

Athos just grunted.

The End (for now, eh?)


	3. Dashing Through the Snow We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Xmas drabbles
> 
> ++++

"Oh, d'Artagnan!" Aramis called out to the lad who was dashing about. The snow falling gently, landing on the boy's head didn't seem to bother d'Artagnan in the least, but Aramis shivered from the safety of the balcony just watching the youngster's head turn mostly white. "That's why you should wear a hat!" he yelled down after d'Artagnan's racing form.

Not bothering to stop on his errands, d'Artagnan raised a hand in the air to give Aramis the finger. 

"I say," Aramis started laughing, "that's not very polite of you! I was just making a friendly observation."

"Our pup ignoring you again, Aramis?" Porthos joined his friend in watching d'Artagnan's mad dash across the courtyard.

"The captain wanted d'Artagnan to be in on this meeting with us," Aramis blew out a cold breath. "But it appears that our youngest has other ideas."

"Where's, d'Artagnan?" Athos glanced at his friends and wondered at the look they sent his way.

"I'm not quite sure now," Aramis shrugged.

"D'Art was in a rush," Porthos added pleasantly.

"What?" Treville's gruff voice broke in. "No d'Artagnan?" When all three men turned to face him, Treville hit the palm of his hand against his forehead. "How could I have forgotten," he mumbled and signaled his men back inside the office. "D'Artagnan's doing the king's business today."

"Why was I not informed?" Athos arched a brow.

"The boy's Christmas shopping for his Majesty," Treville revealed. "And you did not hear this from me."

"I gather King Louis couldn't exactly run about the streets of Paris making his own purchases," Aramis grinned in amusement.

"Somehow d'Artagnan got nominated for the job by Queen Anne,' Treville supplied dryly.

"So d'Art's dashing through the snow playing Santa," Porthos shook his head. "Our lad needs to be dressed more warmly. That cloak is not suited for our winter weather." He worried that d'Artagnan would get sick, especially without a hat on his head to keep in the heat.

Tapping his pencil on top of his desk, Treville could tell that this wasn't a good time to go over strategies with his men for their next assignment. "Porthos, I know you're burning to dash after our youngest and cover him with a heavier covering than he had on." Seeing the relief on the darker-skinned man's face, Treville waved him out of the office.

Noticing Aramis frowning, Treville sighed as he beat a tattoo on his desk with the same pencil. "What is it?"

"D'Artagnan needs gloves as well. I thought his fingers appeared blue even from clear up here."

"Very well, go dash after the boy and bring him a sturdier pair of gloves." Treville nearly smiled at the haste which Aramis left.

After the man's departure, Treville's sharp gaze focused solely on the only Musketeer left. "You have to dash off too I suppose," Treville broke his pencil in two at that point.

"Our young one needs a hat and if d'Artagnan doesn't have the sense God gave him to purchase one, then I will. Whether it musses up his hair or not," Athos commented gruffly.

"Ah well, in that case, by all means dash off to purchase the pup a hat." Looking at the pile of work on his desk, Treville winced. "Athos, I think I'll dash off with you. By the time we all catch up with d'Artagnan the lad may need someone to help him carry all his packages." Giving his desk one last lingering look, Treville thought the child's welfare was more important than studying strategies and paperwork.

The End (for now, eh?)


	4. A Smack in the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet still more Xmas drabbles.
> 
> ++++

"Ow!" Looking for the culprit that threw the snowball smack in his face, Athos shook off the icy, wet snow. Scowling fiercely into the courtyard at the Musketeers still present made the rest of the men uneasy and they decided retreat was the better part of valor. "So help me d'Artagnan," he muttered before stomping off.

++++

"Hey!" Porthos growled as he found himself pelted with snow in the face that was thrown at him from one of the rooftops. He couldn't see the rascal who did it, but they'd be right sorry when he caught them.

++++

"I say!" Aramis wiped his icy face as the snow dripped off his gloves. "Good aim!" he shouted out to whomever his assailant was.

++++

As the three inseparables walked up the steps to Treville's office, they encountered the officer walking down to meet them. The captain's face appeared wet but they didn't dare comment on it.

"Do any of you happen to know where d'Artagnan is?" Treville watched as each man looked at the other then as they faced him, they all shrugged.

Hearing Serge yell out that he'd kill whoever threw that snowball at his face, all four men were pretty sure where d'Artagnan's location was.

++++

"D'Artagnan, what are you doing here? I thought you were on duty." Constance busied herself about the kitchen as she noticed d'Artagnan's odd behavior.

"I'm hiding out." D'Artagnan blew warm puffs of air on his frigid fingers. "Been a little busy."

"Oh tell me you didn't do something stupid like throwing snowballs at your friends?"

Grinning, d'Artagnan nodded.

"I will not harbor a wanted man," she said and then giggled. "Want some help?"

++++

Watching the inseparables with Captain Treville roaming the courtyard, Constance and d'Artagnan were safely hidden from sight inside the garrison stable. A mound of freshly made snowballs laid by their feet.

"On the count of three," d'Artagnan whispered and raised the first snowball in his hand as he winked at Constance's eager face.

++++

"Well no one's seen d'Artagnan anywhere and it would seem that he has the good sense to stay out of our sight for the time being." Athos noticed a small smile beginning to spread on their captain's face and wondered at it.

"Oh let d'Artagnan have his fun," Treville offered. "It's just snow."

Off in the stable the not so innocent pair heard the man's words. "Let's hope Captain Treville still feels that way after we're done," d'Artagnan giggled along with Constance. "One... two... three!"

The four men never knew what hit them as snowballs flew through the air to smack the men right in their faces.

"Only snow, Captain," Porthos growled as he kept wiping his face from the continuous volley of those white projectiles.

"Perhaps I was hasty in saying that," Treville muttered.

"They must have a stockpile of ammunition easily accessible to them. I just don't know where their position is." Aramis couldn't see too well as the ice from the snowballs stuck to his lashes.

"Stable," Athos replied with a slow smile. "And it would seem that our pup recruited some help before continuing his assault on us."

"Who would be lunatic enough..." Porthos never finished his thought as Arams, Athos and Treville started laughing as d'Artagnan and Constance stepped out of the safety of their hiding spot.

"Feeling brave are ye?" Porthos grunted. "And, Constance, I'm hurt. Thought you liked us."

"I like my fun better," she giggled as she cradled another snowball in her hands.

Holding up his own weapons in both hands, d'Artagnan's eyes twinkled. "I'm still armed and extremely dangerous."

"Children," Athos said slowly as he withdrew his sword from its scabbard. He then took off a white scarf which was wrapped around his neck and secured it to the hilt of the sword. Waving it about in surrender, he approached the two antagonists.

Wary of the man, both d'Artagnan and Constance backed away from him slightly.

"Is there room for one more," Athos winked. "I know when to join the winning side."

"We have more made in the stable," Constance whispered and watched Athos walk inside and come back armed.

When the other three men realized that Athos defected it was all out warfare from that point onward.

Other Musketeers scratched their beards perplexed as they observed the inseparables and their captain having a snowball fight in the middle of the courtyard with d'Artagnan and a woman.

When they heard d'Artagnan cry out - *All for one and one for all!*, the rest of the Musketeers that still lingered in the area answered the call and entered the fray.

The End (for now, eh?)


	5. Won't You Ride My Sleigh Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go sleighing, well maybe not quite yet.
> 
> ++++

Standing by Belle's side, leaning on his saddle, Aramis's sharp eyes kept watch over young d'Artagnan. The lad had been running to and fro back to the palace. It was like watching a bouncing ball. "I wonder what is going on?" he murmured quietly to himself. Feeling a presence beside him, Aramis knew Porthos had joined him.

"The whelp still at it?" Porthos had first watch earlier when Aramis had relieved him. Both had worried over their youngest's activities but didn't want to raise the boy's ire if they cornered him over it.

"Oui," Aramis yawned. "Tiresome business this is."

"Our lives ain't worth nothin' if Athos gets wind we ain't watchin' over our boy like we should," Porthos commented with a sharp nod in d'Artagnan's direction. "There he goes again."

"Gentlemen," Athos acknowledged them. "Anything new to report?"

"Same ole, same ole," Porthos shrugged.

"My curiosity is more than peaked," Athos remarked casually.

"Oh now this is interesting," Aramis said and pointed over to where at least six children gathered outside hovering in semi circle around d'Artagnan.

"Now they're all followin' the pup." Porthos had a notion to sneak inside the palace real quiet like and spy on them.

"Porthos," Athos gently admonished, "I can read your mind you know."

"Awe, I ain't never get to have my fun," Porthos grumbled but with a wink over at Aramis, the latter shaking in silent laughter.

"I'm sure this has to do with Christmas," Aramis offered with a smile.

"Oui," Athos nodded. "Poor d'Artagnan was the one elected to purchase those Christmas presents remember?"

"But what have they involved d'Art in this time," Porthos glanced at his friends who were just as stumped as he.

"Ah, gents," Treville chuckled, "spying again I see."

"More like keeping tabs over our youngest," Athos admitted wryly. "You have to admit that whenever we are not around the child usually lands himself in hot water."

"Seems to me you have that backward," Treville's eyes twinkled as he teased his lieutenant. Aramis's huff of quiet laughter relaxed the somewhat tense atmosphere he had interrupted. "I'll take pity on all of you and show you what our lad's been up too."

++++

Once inside the palace walls, Treville took the trio into a huge room seldom used. Observing the inseparables faces, Treville grinned. "As you can see d'Artagnan and his contingent of little elves have been working on that old sleigh, making it shine like new."

"Amazing," Aramis whispered in awe.

"Truly," Athos agreed non-plussed at the sight of d'Artagnan ordering his young charges about as they cleaned, scrubbed and decorated the huge sleigh.

"This was our kid's project?" Porthos scratched his head.

"Oui," Treville replied. "It was an idea that sprang up out of a conversation d'Artagnan had with the king and queen," he chuckled. "You could say it was a collaboration of the minds on all their parts."

"With d'Art doing all the physical labor," Porthos announced rather annoyed for their young one.

"D'Artagnan thrives when there's work to be done," Treville reminded them, "plus his little helpers are quite eager to lend a hand."

"I suppose this is where all those Christmas gifts will be distributed from?" Athos surmised.

"Correct and then the sleigh will be put to good use later," Treville smiled. "It was d'Artagnan's idea to give the children of the palace workers and families that lived near the garrison Christmas rides. I even think our boy mentioned that Flea would deliver some of the Court children here as well for the treat."

"Since when has d'Art been in Flea's confidences?" Porthos was shocked at this.

"Since the time when we were trying to locate you after you were charged with murder the night of your birthday." Treville gave the huge Musketeer a pointed look. "Seems like the lady Flea has taken a liking to our d'Artagnan."

"Yes," Athos grinned, "our boy has that effect on most people he meets."

"They either love him or want to kill him," Aramis chirped, earning a rough punch in the shoulder from Porthos.

++++

D'Artagnan had been so busy bringing the sleigh to life and giving orders to the children present that he was unaware of being watched by four pairs of curious eyes until little Andreas tugged on his breeches and pointed over to their visitors. Blanching, d'Artagnan wiped his hands on a towel and joined the men. "This was supposed to be kept secret wasn't it, sir?" d'Artagnan's puzzled gaze locked onto the captain's laughing blue eyes.

"Let's put it this way, son," Treville laid a hand on the lad's back, "I think you've just gained three much bigger elves to help you with your project." Hearing the groans of his best men, Treville laughed heartily.

D'Artagnan seemed pleased but said sorrowfully, "We could do with the help, but alas I have no more elf hats to distribute."

Bursting with a loud guffaw, Porthos just realized what those pixie hats were that the children and d'Art were wearing. "That's all right, boyo," he winked. "Green and red aren't exactly my colors."

Nor ours," Athos and Aramis announced in tandem, surprising each other and glanced over at d'Artagnan who was on the floor howling, thinking perhaps King Louis had a few more hats hidden away.

The End (for now, eh?)


	6. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No bunnies were hurt making this story (grins)
> 
> ++++

"Just a little further, d'Artagnan!" cried little Isabella from the edge of the frozen lake where she and several other children stood anxiously watching the rescue attempt.

"I'd like to know how this little fellow found himself all alone on the frozen ice?" d'Artagnan hollered out to the children. The lake felt solid beneath his feet but thought it best to get down on his stomach and inch his way forward. It was a slower process but he thought it would be safer.

The small white bunny's nose twitched as it watched d'Artagnan's approach with frightened eyes. But once it was encased in the warmth of d'Artagan's gloved hands it seemed to stop its trembling.

Thinking he had everything in hand, d'Artagnan slowly made his way back until he heard the cracking of ice underneath him and he instantly stilled. He was so close to the edge of the lake that d'Artagnan wondered if he could get to his feet in time and make it back over to the children safely. But he could feel water now seeping through the cracks, soaking through his doublet and cloak. D'Artagnan did the only thing he could think of and literally pushed the small, wild creature with a mighty shove and watched it slide over to Isabella and Jon who were able to grab the little fellow as it slid into their welcoming arms.

But it was too late for d'Artagnan as the cracks widened and he fell through. Coughing and spluttering he tried to gain purchase but there was nothing to hold onto. He could see the frightened looks of the children and shouted. "Don't you dare get on the ice! Get help quickly!" He saw Jacques and Bernard take off like bunnies themselves and hoped they'd come back quickly before he succumbed to hypothermia. Aramis had taught him all about what could happen to one caught out in the cold elements like this and he prayed he wouldn't be among the deadly statistics.

Minutes later, though to a thoroughly soaked, freezing d'Artagnan it felt like hours, the three inseparables came running with Jacques and Bernard hard on their heels.

Cupping his hands, Aramis shouted. "Don't struggle anymore! We're going to throw you a rope and pull you in!"

Wondering how his frozen limbs would react, d'Artagnan just nodded his head weakly. When the rope came his way, somehow he managed to get a hold of it with trembling fingers. As his three friends pulled him in, d'Artagnan's body began shivering uncontrollably. 

"Porthos, get those warm blankets out of my saddle now!" Aramis ordered, concern for their pup uppermost in his mind. "Athos, we have to get the child out of these wet clothes!"

"Out here?" Athos thought Aramis had lost his mind. "D'Artagnan will freeze to death!"

"He's well on his way to doing that now!" Aramis snapped, hating to be questioned when he knew what he was about.

"Apologies," Athos said immediately. So between the two of them they had managed to get d'Artagnan undressed and wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. 

Gathering up the lad in his arms, Porthos placed him on Roulette and they quickly left for the garrison infirmary.

++++

*Infirmary*

"Well, was it worth it?" Athos asked a still shivering d'Artagnan later.

"At the time I thought it was," d'Artagnan offered quietly as Aramis covered him with more heated blankets.

The children came to visit him and they placed the timid little ball of fur onto d'Artagnan's lap. "It's a she bunny," little Isabella pointed out.

Rolling his eyes, Aramis started laughing. "Of course it would be."

"D'Art's always rescuing damsels in distress," Porthos quipped while Athos's shoulders shook in silent laughter.

Wagging his finger in d'Artagnan's face, Athos's blue eyes sparkled with humor. "No good deed goes unpunished."

"I'll try and remember that for next time," d'Artagnan remarked shakily. Then he admonished the bunny gently. "No more ice skating for you," and heard his friend's laughter surround him with warmth.

The End (for now, eh?)


	7. Oh Christmas Tree - Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something else goes timber this time. LOL!
> 
> ++++

"All right, Rene, this time we'll do it a different way," d'Artagnan said. "And I promised Serge that the Christmas Tree wouldn't find it's way on his head again." Rene's laughter lightened his mood. Ever since the tree did an impromptu collapse, d'Artagnan had been nothing but teased by Athos, Porthos and especially teased by Aramis. Though he didn't see any of them offering their help.

"I found the stronger ropes we should have used hanging from some beams in our stable," Rene said as he handed them to d'Artagnan.

"That's strange that they would be there," d'Artagnan glanced over at the stable and then again at the ropes in his hands hoping they weren't for anything important. "Let's get the men gathered around and get this thing done right."

++++

*More than a few hours later*

A companionable hand rested across d'Artagnan's shoulder as Rene gave him a friendly hug. "Well done I must say!"

"Oui," d'Artagnan's smile grew as he gave the Musketeers, who volunteered again, a thumbs up and everyone cheered, throwing their hats in the air.

"Cause for celebrations?" Aramis asked as he sidled up beside the boy.

Pointing to the now erect Christmas tree, d'Artagnan bowed before his friend. "It is finally accomplished."

"What? Again?" cuffing the pup gently behind the ear, Aramis winked at the offended look the child threw him.

"No thanks to you, Porthos or Athos," d'Artagnan snapped.

"Temper, temper, d'Artagnan," Aramis waved his finger at the youngster. "Christmas is nearly upon us and you wouldn't want dear old Saint Nickolaus to leave you lumps of coal in your stocking."

"Oh for the love of..." d'Artagnan waved the man away. Looking over at Rene who was nearly doubled over with laughter, d'Artagnan shook his head ruefully.

Suddenly, a loud crash could be heard and d'Artagnan froze. Last time this happened the tree nearly took Serge's head off. Afraid to look but realizing he had too, d'Artagnan turned around expecting to see their tree on the ground. But it still stood there straight and tall, appearing quite regal. Wondering then where the sound had come from, d'Artagnan noticed Rene's color leech from his face. Following the direction of the other Musketeer's gaze, d'Artagnan saw that part of their stable seemed to have caved in. "The horses!" he shouted out, especially scared for Zad, Roger and Roulette who were inside. But the other Musketeers had everything well in hand as all the horses were recovered safely.

Rubbing his chin, Aramis wondered out loud. "What could have caused that?" Then noticing Rene's guilty expression, Aramis turned to d'Artagnan with a question on his lips. "Why does Rene seem as if he's committed a crime?"

"Mon dieu!" d'Artagnan couldn't believe their rotten luck. "Rene, what part of the stable were those ropes hanging from?"

Wincing, Rene hung his head in shame. "The area that's now collapsed." Staring up at Treville's office, Rene expected the officer to be in a full rage any second and he wasn't disappointed as minutes later his captain came bounding down the steps two at a time to confirm the damage done to the stable. Then he marched directly over to him and d'Artagnan.

"Do I want to know why part of our stable looks like that?" Treville's gaze narrowed as he watched Rene squirm and d'Artagnan grimace.

"I'll take full responsibility, sir," d'Artagnan offered. "We needed stronger rope and Rene found some in the barn. I should have checked before using them." As d'Artagnan explained his voice grew softer and softer underneath Treville's sharp look.

"Ah, I see," Treville did indeed see. "We've been meaning to fix that part of the stable ever since the heavy rains weakened the structure. That's why we used those ropes in that particular area," he watched poor d'Artagnan's features turn grey. "Guess I should have pointed that out to you since your our newest recruit, but," Treville turned swiftly and stabbed Rene with his ire, "you should have known better, being here far longer than the boy."

"Apologies, sir. But I did not know either."

"Look at it this way, Captain," Aramis tried to lighten the mood before d'Artagnan burst into tears, which he looked to do any minute, "our Christmas tree stands proudly before all now."

"You, of all people, would look at it that way," Treville growled and stomped away.

"I think that rather worked, don't you?" Aramis asked their young one.

"I am never ever going to volunteer to put up a Christmas tree again," d'Artagnan groaned as he watched Rene sheepishly grin his direction and walk away.

"Oh, d'Artagnan!" Constance called out, finally finding him. "Don't forget tonight you're helping us with our tree!" She didn't stop to talk as she was on several errands.

Chuckling, Aramis looked at the boy's white face. "You were saying?"

The End (for now, eh?)


	8. Jingling All the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deck the horses with... (or is that deck the halls?) LOL! You'll see...
> 
> ++++

"Do you hear that?" Aramis looked around the courtyard as did Porthos and Athos.

"Sounds like tinkling little bells." Porthos couldn't locate where it was coming from.

"Gentlemen," Athos nodded toward the stable. As he did d'Artagnan came out leading Zad, Belle and Roulette in a procession.

"What sort of fancy necklace did d'Art put on them?" With every step the horses made, Porthos heard the jingling of bells.

"Don't you remember we volunteered our mounts to be in the king's Christmas parade?" Athos walked over to stand by d'Artagnan's side as the younger man adjusted Zad's decorative piece.

When Porthos followed he stood before Roulette, fingering the oddly shaped garland. "Yeah, still don't understand what this is, eh?"

Smiling, knowing Porthos wasn't used to seeing something of this nature, d'Artagnan patiently explained. "When I was little maman and I would weave garland together and decorate them with bells and whatever extra homemade decorations we had on hand. Then we shaped them to resemble horseshoes so they would lay more comfortably around all the horse's necks that would be taking part in our annual village Christmas parade," d'Artagnan ducked his head shyly. "As you can see I did the same for our own."

"Good memories?" Aramis flashed a quick smile at their youngest causing the boy to blush.

"Oui," d'Artagnan nodded. "Makes me feel like I'm back in Lupiac again," his smile slipped momentarily. "After my maman passed away, I had no one to help me make them and with pe're working the farm I just abandoned the project until today."

"Ye ain't hankerin' to leave us now are ya?" Porthos would drag the whelp back kicking and screaming if he had too. Instead, for now, Porthos settled for a one arm hug as d'Artagnan tried to wriggle free.

"Non! I like it here," d'Artagnan laughed as he easily slipped out of the larger man's hold.

"Our lad's getting better at breaking Porthos's grip," Athos whispered to Aramis, the latter smiling in agreement.

"Zad, Belle and Roulette will be taking the lead pulling our Christmas sleigh," d'Artagnan grinned as the horses started prancing about showing off, while the bells on their garlands jingled merrily. "I'm just getting them used to the feel of the extra weight."

"Perhaps you could make one to put around Captain Treville's neck," Aramis suggested slyly.

"Yeah, that way he can't sneak up on us like he always does," Porthos added. Hearing Athos clearing his throat rather loudly had the bigger man stiffen.

"What do you want around my neck, gents?" Treville noticed d'Artagnan covering his mouth to stifle his giggles as Porthos hung his head, while Aramis moaned softly and Athos's lips twitched.

"Porthos," d'Artagnan patted his friend's arm sympathetically, "I somehow don't think that would remedy the problem."

Treville fingered the jingle bells on the unique looking garland that was around Zad's neck. "I could use these on you three men."

"I asked for that one," Aramis huffed, running his hand down the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at his captain.

"Why not include d'Art in that?" Porthos growled. The pup was always worming out of things.

"Because anytime there's unusual activity occurring around here I know exactly where to find him." Treville glanced at the youngster who looked back at him curiously.

"Uh, where would that be, sir?" Athos knew the answer already, he just wanted to hear it voiced out loud.

"Smack in the middle of it," Treville laughed and shook the garland again to jingle the bells before he left.

The End (for now, eh?)


	9. Decorating the Palace or Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methinks the boy doth protest too much. LOL!
> 
> ++++

“Non! That’s not quite the place for the garland, d’Artagnan.”

He loved the queen he really did, but this past hour nothing d’Artagnan did was to Queen Anne’s liking. He felt like shouting down to her, from his high perch on top of an extremely high ladder, for her Majesty to come up here and do it herself. But knowing he couldn’t be that rude, he flung the garland entwined with holly berries over his shoulder and carefully climbed back down.

Once his feet touched the ground, d’Artagnan glanced at Queen Anne cautiously. “Perhaps you have a better idea where this should all go.”

“Matter of fact I have been thinking on it while you were up there,” Queen Anne walked back and forth glancing all around the main ball room where they currently stood. “Let’s try that spot back here.” She clapped her hands in delight. “Oui, I think that will be just the right place.”

Again d’Artagnan found himself dragging the ladder over to another area and making the climb back up. It was just a good thing he wasn't afraid of heights or God only knows how he would have accomplished this. “How did I get myself mixed up in this?” he grumbled to himself, safe in the knowledge that Queen Anne couldn’t hear him.

Stepping inside the room, Captain Treville saw the resigned look on the boy’s face. This couldn’t continue. First d’Artagnan was sent by the king to buy Louis's presents for his Majesty to give out, then the youngster was fixing up a sleigh and making garland wreaths for the horses in the coming parade. Now... now d’Artagnan seems to have become the queens personal decorator. Treville could at least put a stop to today’s activities and save the child some further grief. That is if d’Artagnan didn't break his neck first and fall off that ladder. 

“Ah, Captain, do you need to see the king?” Queen Anne approached the officer but still kept one eye on d’Artagnan to make sure the boy was hanging the garland correctly.

“Actually it was d’Artagnan I needed, your Majesty.”

Her mouth formed a perfect moue while the queen’s finger tapped her delicate chin. Sighing, Queen Anne turned around and called out to the youngster. “D’Artagnan, Captain Treville needs you.”

“Oh thank heavens someone else does,” d’Artagnan muttered as he gazed heavenward before making his way down the ladder again. Walking over to his captain, he smiled with real pleasure. “Hello, sir.”

Placing an arm across the lad’s shoulder, Treville’s eyes danced. “Something comes up that requires the attention of my four best men.”

“Your Majesty, I am truly sorry, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to finish the Christmas decorations for you,” d’Artagnan tried to appear as if it was the greatest tragedy that he couldn’t continue his work.

“Tis fine, d’Artagnan,” Queen Anne nodded. “I can get one of the other men to help with it. You just have such a great eye for this type of challenge that I thought I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Queen Anne,” d’Artagnan bowed. “But it looks like I must leave you now.”

“Adieu, but don’t forget you’ll be leading the Christmas parade in a few days,” Queen Anne smiled at the boy.

“How could I forget that,” d’Artagnan laughed and sent her a tiny wave in farewell.

Walking out of the palace, Treville noticed the youngster totally relax. “Got you out of a sticky one, eh?”

“You have know idea,” d’Artagnan chuckled. “Nothing was in the right place for her.”

“That’s how it can be with some women,” Treville’s lips quirked upward. “Some are perfectionists.”

“Should I go in hiding for the time being, sir or do you actually have a job for me to do?”

“Go hide in my office and we can go over tactics,” Treville laughed. “How will that be?”

“Excellent! I look forward to it.” Spying Constance heading his way, d’Artagnan said, “Oh, oh.”

Watching the young woman’s approach, Treville thought that perhaps tactics will have to be done another time.

“There you are,” Constance pulled d’Artagnan by the arm away from the captain's side.

“Where are you taking me?” d’Artagnan dug in his heels and wouldn’t budge.

“I need you to help me decorate my house?” she rolled her eyes. "You promised... remember?"

Honestly he didn't remember. “What am I all of a sudden?” D’Artagnan gazed at Treville for an answer. The latter simply shrugged and tried not to laugh in the boy's face. 

The humor of the situation was not lost on Treville. Rescued from one woman only to turn around and fall captive to another. Ah, but he couldn't think of a better way to spend time with a pretty girl. D'Artagnan would survive he was sure of it.

“Blame Aramis,” Constance offered. “He told me you did wonders for that old sleigh. Then Athos explained what a delightful job you did with the wreaths for the horses.”

“I thought they were my friends,” d’Artagnan complained loudly, spying said friends in the courtyard holding their sides from laughter. “Just you wait!” he shouted at them. “I’ll think of something really grand to volunteer all three of you for!”

Taking Constance’s arm in his own, d’Artagnan breezed past the inseparables without a backwards glance.

The End (for now, eh?)


	10. To Hear the Little Angels Sing (or at least trying too)

*Garrison chapel*

“How did this come about?” Athos shook his head as he watched d’Artagnan leading a bunch of little raggamuffins in song.

“I rescued the lad from decorating the great hall yesterday with Queen Anne,” Treville said. “It’s only been a matter of a day and now he’s leading the local children in the Christmas pageant,” he huffed in laughter. “Certainly doesn’t take d’Artagnan long to get himself entangled in things.”

“I didn’t know d’Artagnan could sing,” Aramis sounded pleased by this piece of news.

“I’m surprised none of you heard the whelp singing in the lake this past summer when we stopped to clean up on our way back from that lengthy assignment,” Porthos said. “He had a right nice voice.”

"Wonder what Athos and I were doing that we didn't hear our youngest," Aramis mused.

“Seems our young one is just full of surprises lately,” Athos was eager to listen in on this practice session.

++++

“All right, mon petites,” d’Artagnan announced in his clear voice. “You will be singing in the palace entertaining the king and queen and I want you all to pay strict attention to me during that time.”

“Oui, d’Artagnan,” all the children cried out at once, making d’Artagnan wince from the noise as their voices echoed in the small chapel.

++++

“Sister Edith,” Treville snagged the older woman's arm as she whizzed past. “May I inquire as to how d’Artagnan became involved in this?”

Smiling, Sister Edith chattered happily with the captain. “The young man was walking past the chapel yesterday and heard the children singing,” she frowned, “well more like croaking until he stepped in.” She clapped her hands together as if in prayer. “What a God send he is.” Lowering her voice Sister Edith whispered. “D’Artagnan has the voice of an angel himself,” she announced gayly. “A natural born tenor he is. I twisted his arm gently into helping us out.” Glancing back over at the children, she bowed. “I must attend and help with the petites. Please excuse me.”

“There doesn’t seem much our boyo can’t do,” Porthos grinned, pride in his voice quite evident.

“More to tease our lad about too,” Aramis winked, earning him twin grins from Treville and Athos.

“Shoosh,” Athos said, “I want to hear this," he waved his hand at the men.

++++

“Silent night, holy night, all is...”

“O come all ye faithful, joyful...”

“Non! Non! Non!” D’Artagnan glanced over at Sister Edith who was quietly giggling behind her hand as d’Artagnan grimaced. “Marie Joelle had Silent Night, Ambroise,” he sighed. “You have to wait your turn.”

“D’Artagnan is correct, mon garcon,” Sister Edith smiled sweetly. “Ambroise, you do not come in yet until her song is completed.”

A most mutinous expression crossed the eight year old Ambroise’s face. “Why?”

Mouth falling open in amazement, d’Artagnan glanced over at Sister Edith helplessly. This was a new experience for him and it would probably end up being his last.

“Because Marie Joelle’s song has to finish first,” Sister Edith explained firmly, thinking finally the boy understood her as he nodded his head.

“All right,” d’Artagnan scanned the sheet music. “Let’s just skip it for now and go onto Ambroise’s song.” Seeing the child preen at his words, d’Artagnan let a smile escape him. “Go ahead.”

“O come all ye faithful...”

“We three kings of orient are, bearing...”

“NON!” This time d’Artagnan yelled so loud the rafters nearly shook. “Desiree and you Michelle weren’t supposed to come in yet either.”

Sticking out his tongue at them, Ambroise grinned.

“None of that from you either, Ambroise,” d’Artagnan gently scolded. “Since everyone is anxious to get their part out in the open we’ll just go onto the next one.” Looking for and not finding his next songbirds, d’Artagnan's puzzled frown caught Sister Edith's gaze.

“Oh, sorry,” she blushed, “Chason and Burcet had to go to visit the chamber pots.”

Hanging his head, d’Artagnan muttered, “Of course they did.” Hearing muffled laughter from further on down in the pews, he turned to see who their visitors were. “Oh it figures,” he huffed and gave them all a small wave.

++++

“Having a bit of trouble getting the choir together I’d say,” Aramis was glad it wasn’t him.

“The children are too eager that is all,” Athos supplied, “once they calm down they will attend better.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Treville chuckled softly.

++++

“Nadia, while we are waiting for the other two to come back why don’t you sing your solo?” D’Artagnan watched as the little girl stepped to the front and then tearfully broke out with Ave Maria. Holding up a hand to silence her, d’Artagnan frowned. “Nadia, why are you crying?”

Wringing her hands, she looked sorrowfully at d’Artagnan. “Because, Monsieur, it is such a sad song.”

“Eh bien, it is very sad but very poignant too,” d’Artagnan rubbed his chin. “You can’t cry during it though.”

“I can’t?” Nadia blinked her eyes at d'Artagnan. “Maman cries all the time when she sings it.”

“Mon fille, you are not your mother!” d’Artagnan snapped and instantly regretted it as he saw the girl’s chin quiver. “Apologies, the hour grows late and it just feels like we haven’t accomplished very much and in a few days you are all to be presented in the great hall for the coming Christmas festivities.” There it was, he just put the fear of God into the children by pointing that out as he could see the children's faces rapidly paling.

Running back to the little congregation, Chason and Burcet were still adjusting their pants as they took their places out front. Hearing d’Artagnan clear his throat they signaled they were ready as ever.

“Let’s try *Joy to the World* next.” Waiting for Abrielle and Cherri to step forward and join the two boys, d’Artagnan nodded in approval when they held their sheet music before them.

“Joy to the world the Lord has come...”

“Away in a manger, no crib for His bed...”

“Oh mon dieu,” d’Artagnan hung his head and counted to ten. When that didn’t work he counted to twenty. Lifting his head back up he spotted Jon and Edward who appeared ready to bolt for the nearest door. Holding up his hand, d’Artagnan made sure he was understood this time. “Would it work better instead of solo performances if all you children just sing the songs together?” Multiple nodding of heads greeted his words and a smile slowly blossomed on d’Artagnan’s face again. “Fine then, that is what we shall do.”

“D’Artagnan,” Sister Edith came over to his side. “Would you grace us with a solo from yourself as well?”

Blushing, d’Artagnan nodded his agreement. “I haven’t really sang since I was in my own church choir back home in Lupiac. It will be nice to do so once more.”

“My thanks,” Sister Edith smiled. “You may pick out whatever piece you’d like to do.” She was so excited and couldn’t wait to share this news with her other sisters. “Sister Henrietta can play anything you pick out.”

Nodding his head over at Sister Henrietta, who was seated in front of the piano, d’Artagnan knew what he wanted to sing. “The Little Drummer Boy,” he glanced back at the children and spotted the tiniest of them all and waved him over. “Francois, you can be my very own little drummer boy,” d’Artagnan tickled the six year old under the child’s chin until Francois giggled. “Sisters, do you happen to have a toy drum?”

The End (for now, eh?)


	11. He Sees You When You're Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigmund referred comically that my d'Art in the Xmas drabbles reminds her of an elf on a shelf. So cute!  
> Well my elf is all tuckered out from all the Xmas doings he's helping prepare for.
> 
> ++++

*The Bonacieux's home*

"How long has the pup been like that?" Athos asked worriedly as he gazed at d'Artagnan sleeping peacefully on his bed. Thing is, it was barely past noon when the child would have been up ages ago.

"Now don't you three go and do something stupid like waking d'Artagnan up," Constance whispered fiercely, like a mama bear protecting her cub. "He dragged himself in here muttering about petite children not coming in on cue." She admitted to herself that part had made no sense to her. Then Constance heard the three inseparables soft huffs of laughter and knew there was a story here to be told later on. 

"I agree. Let him sleep," Aramis cautioned Athos. "He's wiped out from everything everyone has been asking him to do for this Christmas pageant and parade."

"Aramis has the right of it," Porthos growled softly, not wanting to wake their youngest up.

"They say Santa sees you when you're sleeping," Athos chuckled. "Looks like d'Artagnan qualifies."

"Well our youngest elf will have pleasant surprises for him to wake up to on Christmas morning," Aramis grinned.

"Yeah," Porthos rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait for our whelp to see the things we got em'."

"Gentlemen, I suggest we talk more about this outside, lest our youngest wakes up and hears our conversation."

All three men froze when d'Artagnan grumbled sleepily, thinking the lad indeed heard their words. "Is it time yet?"

Leaning down, Aramis whispered, "For what, d'Artagnan?"

"To report for duty," d'Artagnan mumbled sleepily. His eyelids refused to open up as he waited to hear if he had to leave his cozy nest.

"Non," Aramis ran his hand gently through the child's hair. "Rest, you're going to need it later."

"Mmmmm," d'Artagnan smiled. "Whatever you say, Mis."

"Treville's going to wonder about this," Athos tilted his head as he watched the peaceful expression on the boy's face.

"Oui, but this time of year is slow for us," Porthos said. "Because of that the captain's let d'Art off his regular duties to do all this helpin' out."

"I see our head Christmas elf has finally run out of steam," Treville realized he had startled his men as they all whirled around to stare at him in surprise when he entered d'Artagnan's room. "I've been ready for the boy to crash and this is as good a time as any."

"Then it's all right with you?" Athos questioned.

"Of course," Treville snorted softly. "I've never seen one person move about with so much energy to spare than d'Artagnan. I knew he'd have to burn out at some point."

"He could give Saint Nickolaus a run for his money," Aramis remarked, making the others laugh.

"Let him sleep for as long as he'd like. The lad's earned it," Treville remarked gruffly. "I'm sure Santa will bring d'Artagnan quite a few nice presents for being such a good petite garcon."

"Oooh, don't let our bucko hear you call him that," Porthos rolled his eyes.

"Well I have it on good authority that Santa Claus and their Majesty's are going to gift d'Artagnan with something special Christmas day," Treville winked at his men and with one last look at the blissful, sleepy face of the lad, he departed.

"Seems like Santa as well as d'Artagnan still have busy days ahead of them," Aramis quipped.

"Indeed," Athos nodded, a pleasant smile dancing about his lips. "Merry dreams, d'Artagnan."

The End (for now, eh?)


	12. Presents Underneath the Christmas Tree

*Musketeer barracks*

D'Artagnan looked under the Christmas tree that decorated their barracks and was stunned to see how many wrapped presents had his name on them. He felt like a petite garcon as he reached out to shake one package as he held it up to his ear. D'Artagnan nearly dropped the gift when he realized he wasn't alone any longer.

"Cannot you wait until Christmas day, pup?"

Placing the gift carefully back where it belonged, d'Artagnan's face infused with red as he glanced at Athos. Getting back up, he ducked his head shyly. "Couldn't resist." Glancing back at the presents once more, his face wreathed in smiles. "I can't believe most of those are for me."

Clapping the youngster on the shoulder, Athos's blue eyes sparkled. "And why not?" He cuffed the boy gently behind the ear. "Don't you think you're deserving of them?"

"Non! I mean Oui... uh, that didn't come out right," d'Artagnan grinned sheepishly, enjoying the sounds of rare laughter coming from Athos. "I hope I've gotten everyone covered that was on my own Christmas list otherwise I'll feel badly."

"Do not worry yourself overmuch on that account, d'Artagnan," Athos ruffled the child's hair. "Not everyone wishes a gift in turn. It's the joy of giving that lightens a heart at this time."

"I've never heard you talk so much," d'Artagnan laughed as Athos frowned. "I like it."

"Well come on, boy," Athos mockingly growled, "came to fetch you for lunch."

++++

*Royal Palace*

"Do you think d'Artagnan will like our gift, Louis?" Queen Anne had told the palace guards to secure it away in a safe spot she and Louis had picked out when the present arrived last week.

"Knowing d'Artagnan, he'll be over the moon," Louis smiled at her. "Even though I complain about the Court of Miracles, they do have clever craftsmen with nimble fingers that aren't always used to steal ones aumoniere."

Giggling, Anne agreed. "It was a lovely suggestion from Porthos, and with his connections we were lucky he was able to make contact with the gentleman known for this type of work."

"And if you recall," Louis reminded her, "it was my idea to have the fleur-de-lis carved on the saddle, along with the other design work."

"You're a good man, Louis," Anne kissed her husband on the cheek, making Louis blush. "And it was truly an excellent idea."

"I do come up with them from time to time, mon cherie."

++++

*Aramis's apartment, after lunch*

"I'm still laughing at how you caught d'Artagnan earlier, Athos."

"It was an odd sight for me," Athos sighed. "I pictured Thomas when he was nearly d'Artagnan's age doing the same thing."

"Eh bien, I hope those memories didn't hurt too much."

"D'Artagnan's helped heal a lot of them." Sitting down at the table where Aramis had set out two glasses, Athos wondered where Porthos had gotten too. D'Artagnan declared he promised to help Constance with something or other. "Where's our pirate today?"

"Porthos volunteered to help our pup deliver Constance's gifts to the chapel for the children involved in the pageant." Aramis walked over to his fireplace and threw more wood on it, for it had grown chilly.

Huffing, Athos exchanged a comical look with the other man. "Now they've gotten him wrapped up in all this Christmas mayhem."

"Porthos seemed happy to help out," Aramis poured himself and Athos some wine. "I think he was feeling sorry for the lad."

"Oui, our youngest has been running himself ragged of late," Athos took a sip of his drink and smiled. "I needed that. My thanks, Aramis."

"Anything for you, mon ami." Glancing at the pile of presents he had put aside in a corner of his room, Aramis grinned. "I can't wait for d'Artagnan to see the hand-tooled leather scabbard I made for him."

"Or the sword I got him made from the finest Toledo steel," Athos added.

"Porthos got our lad a hat to match the colors of d'Artagnan's uniform." Aramis wasn't so sure how well that would go over with their youngest.

"I tried to talk him out of that but Porthos insisted he'd make the youngster wear it for parades and other important occasions when needed," Athos remarked.

"I won't know how to react," Aramis huffed in laughter. "D'Artagnan in a hat. What a concept."

Both men were chuckling over that image when the door banged open admitting a trio of snow covered individuals.

"Got anything to warm the bones," Porthos shuddered. "It's right cold out there and I think Constance and d'Artagnan are near to frozen."

"Come, children, and you too Porthos," Aramis urged, "warm yourselves by the fire." He tried not to let his amusement show at the snow still covering d'Artagnan's head. "I just added more wood to the fireplace so that it's nice and toasty." Seeing Constance's relief quite evident on her pretty face, Aramis made her sit the closest to the warmth. "Constance, at least you had the good sense to wear a warm cape with a hood."

"Yes, not like some stupid boy I know," Constance shot d'Artagnan a sharp look, the latter just scowled. 

Passing around some warmed wine, Aramis held up his glass in a toast which the others followed. "Here's to friendships old and new."

The End (for now, eh?)


	13. Same Christmas Tree... Different Day (Round 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I were d'Art, I'd give up (grins).
> 
> I've been trying to get as many drabbles up as I can + chapters of Crossroads before going back to work Monday (I've been off this whole week).  
> So after Sunday, updates will be slower in coming.
> 
> ++++

* Garrison courtyard*

Walking through the courtyard, d’Artagnan passed by the huge Christmas tree that stood in the center. He was proud of the job he and his volunteers had done, despite not such an auspicious beginning.

But d’Artagnan noticed something quite odd about the greenery on it, from the bottom to about three quarters of the way up. The tree appeared singed as if it had caught fire somehow. It was not a pretty sight to the eye.

Spying Rene and Edward coming his way, d’Artagnan waved them over. “Do either of you know what happened here?” he frowned as he pointed to the partially burnt limbs. D’Artagnan could see both men hesitating. “Eh bien, I’m waiting,” he tapped his foot impatiently.

“Some of the women from the palace said it would be simply wonderful if we let them decorate the tree with wax tapers so that in the evening the tree will glow brightly,” Edward explained, wincing as he could see d’Artagnan’s frown growing ever fiercer.

After Edward’s partial explanation, d’Artagnan's attention was caught by the reflectors of polished tin that were used to hold the candles in place. They were surrounded by brightly colored paper in every shape of star, leaf, fruit, or flower. Though now, they hung limply and quite lackluster. Rubbing at his forehead as a headache threatened to make an appearance, d'Artagnan observed Rene couldn’t look him in the eye. “Rene, what happened then?”

“Uh, the ladies only got part-way up as you can see and said they’d come back later when we got a ladder out and the men could finish all the way up to the top of the tree for them,” Rene grimaced. “Unfortunately, lady Paulette thought to light the ones already done just to see how it looked.” Rene’s face as he glanced at Edward was a plea for help.

“It looked very nice and none of us thought anything of it as we left them to burn,” Edward shook his head sadly as he observed what had happened to their eloquent display. “That night, if you recall, d’Artagnan, a swift wind blew throughout the garrison.”

“Yes, I was out in it running all around helping here and there,” d’Artagnan pointed out waspishly. “Nearly blew me off my feet,” he muttered. Then it hit him what Edward was referring too. “Non! You mean they were lit *that* night?”

“Oui,” Rene replied. “The flame from the candles blew onto the tree limbs and caught alight. It was Serge who first noticed it and came running out with buckets of water, to which the few of us that were still around helped to put the fire out.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?” d’Artagnan snapped, voice full of authority which had the other two Musketeers cringing. They could very well hear the command in his tone and pictured years down the road, after some seasoning, d’Artagnan becoming their captain.

“We did not want to burden you with this after everything you have been doing to see this Christmas pageant a success,” Edward said.

“Get every man available and get rid of those candles,” d’Artagnan ordered. “I know somewhere I can get my hands on tinsel and a lot of it. We’ll cover the tree from top to bottom,” he glanced over at the palace. “I refuse to have King Louis see what a dismal failure this turned out to be.”

“May I ask where you’re going to get enough tinsel from?” Rene didn’t think the stores in Paris had that much.

“Remember I was helping Queen Anne start to decorate the great hall,” d’Artagnan grinned. “Until, that is, Captain Treville rescued me from that duty,” he chuckled. “Still, I was helping her remove the decorations from one of the rooms and there were boxes of tinsel lying about the queen didn’t want used plus some other decorations we can add as well.”

“Excellent!” Edward crowed. “I’ll round up every Musketeer not on duty.”

“I think next year we’ll have to come up with something else for the courtyard,” d’Artagnan remarked ruefully. “This was just too much trouble.” Hearing Rene and Edward’s laughter as they strode away caused a smile to tug at d’Artagnan’s lips.

The End (for now, eh?)


	14. Burnt Offerings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never let Serge leave the oven without someone watching it (grins)
> 
> ++++

"Smells nice in here, Serge," Porthos said as he sat down for lunch along with Athos and Aramis.

"We're baking cookies for the Christmas pageant," Serge had flour all over his face and apron. "Didn't know d'Artagnan could turn out cookies better than me."

"Eh, did you say *d'Artagnan*?" Aramis exchanged amazed looks with his fellow brothers.

"Our young Gascon constantly astounds me," Athos remarked. "Could we sample a few?"

"Oui," Serge bobbed his head. "We have some fresh out of the oven." He came back but a moment later with a plate full of hand decorated Christmas cookies.

It didn't take long for the three Musketeers to polish them off. 

"Those were right tasty," Porthos licked his fingers clean that still had icing on them.

"Quite good," Arams gave them his nod of approval as well, taking a sip of his wine.

"We'll have to make sure to treat our pup with more respect," Athos said wryly," if we are to partake of more treats like these in the future."

"I heard that." A laughing d'Artagnan emerged from the kitchen covered in as much, or more, flour as Serge.

"Do you ever rest?" Porthos asked as he drained his own glass of wine dry.

"You're burning the candle brightly at both ends," Athos's sharp gaze held the boy's.

"I'm fine," d'Artagnan shook his head and had flour flying in all directions.

"Where'd you learn to bake?" Porthos leaned back in his chair, observing the lad's happy features.

"From maman when I was just a petite garcon."

"She taught you well," Aramis smiled fondly at their pup.

"Another skill you hid from us," Athos pointed out. "Any others you'd care to share?"

"Possibly one or two more," d'Artagnan grinned, wiping his hands on his apron.

Sniffing the air, Porthos sat up in alarm. "Think somethin's burnin'."

"Non!" D'Artagnan appeared horrified and cried out to Serge who was setting a few tables. "Serge! You were supposed to be manning the ovens!"

"Mon dieu!" Smelling the smoke himself now, Serge dropped his dishes and scurried away to the kitchen, only to come out a minute later with a smoking tray of burnt cookies. "Sorry, d'Artagnan."

"We'll just have to make another batch." D'Artagnan waved goodbye to his friends but before that he swiped his forehead with a flour covered hand, leaving a white smear across his forehead to match the rest of his flour covered cheeks. Hearing the inseparables start choking with laughter, d'Artagnan frowned. "What?"

"Plannin' on puttin' yourself in the oven, boyo?" Porchos chuckled. While Aramis and Athos pointed to the lad's face.

"Look in the mirror, d'Artagnan," Athos's lips were graced with a fond smile as he watched the youngster take stock of his flour dusted face.

"It's a sad state of affairs that I have more flour on me than what went into the recipe." D'Artagnan walked away muttering to himself while his brother's laughter followed him.

The End (for now, eh?)


	15. On Thin Ice

“Where’s d’Art?” Porthos couldn’t find the lad anywhere.

“Oh, are you lookin’ for d’Artagnan?” Serge had ushered the men inside. Seeing concerned faces reflected on Athos and Aramis as well he thought he’d put them at ease. “The youngster went with Constance and some children to try their skating legs on the pond.”

“I thought after d’Artagnan fell through the ice rescuing that bunny he didn’t want to go near that place again,” Aramis exchanged surprised looks with his friends.

“May I ask where they got all the skates from?’ Athos waited for Serge to supply them with an answer and got another surprise.

“Suren’ it was their Majesties doin’,” Serge grinned. “Heard the children jibberin’ about what it would be like to glide on the frozen water and how happy they were that the king and queen gave them the skates to do it with.” Scratching his head Serge knew there was something he left out. “Oh yeah,” he laughed, “how could I forget? Their Majesties also went along.”

“This I have to see,” Aramis was the first out the door with Porthos and Athos close behind.

++++

*The ice pond*

“Have you ever skated before, sire?” d’Artagnan asked as he laced up his own skates. Constance was already out on the frozen pond twirling about gracefully and waving at him to hurry up. The other children too were shouting for him to join them. The reason he was nearly the last one on the ice was the fact that he had helped most of the petite children with the lacing of their skates.

Laughing, King Louis shook his head. “Non. But how hard could it be?” Anne’s quiet snort beside him made Louis glance at her in amusement. “You have just about as much experience at this as I do, Anne.”

Patting her husband’s arm, Anne smiled sweetly at him. “We’ll hold onto each other, cheri.”

A smile grew on d’Artagnan’s face after hearing this exchange. “If you need any guidance I’ll be around.”

“Where did you learn to skate, d’Artagnan?” Queen Anne asked the youngster as he was about to step onto the ice.

“There was plenty of opportunities back home,” d’Artagnan grinned. “It was one of my favorite pasttimes when winter came to our village.” Watching the king and queen trying to get their balance as they stood up, he couldn’t help the chuckles that escaped him. “Last one on the pond has to help unlace all the children’s skates afterwards!”

++++

“Mon ami’s, we are missing out,” Aramis laughed as he watched d’Artagnan and Constance gliding around the pond with the lad’s arm around her.

“I like my feet planted firmly on the ground,” Porthos grunted. Though it did appear to him that nearly everyone was enjoying themselves. He still didn’t feel it was the thing for him.

“As do I,” Athos agreed, observing with a keen eye how graceful Constance and d’Artagnan seemed to be. “I’d wager to anyone that’s never skated that it could be as dangerous as handling a blade.”

“Oooh, that right hurts,” Porthos saw King Louis go down hard on the ice.

“Ah! There goes the children all down in a row,” Aramis grinned.

“What’s so great about this skating on ice,” Porthos shuddered. “Seems everyone’s rear ends have connected with the pond instead of their feet.” His remark earned a guffaw from Aramis and a snort from Athos.

“When done properly, Porthos, ice skating can be an elegant sport,” Aramis explained, wincing when he saw d’Artagnan go down trying not to bump into King Louis who was in his road and had yet to re-gain his feet. Constance was helping the queen not to fall down as it looked like she was about to follow her husband’s example.

“Well then they all need lessons,” Porthos laughed. “Maybe not d’Art and Constance so much.”

“D’Artagnan seems to have only fallen once since we’ve arrived,” Athos pointed out. “Eh bien, I spoke too soon.” He saw the boy valiantly trying to help their Majesties keep their balance and when the king faltered again, one foot going out from under him, King Louis brought d’Artagnan, Queen Anne, and Constance down along with him.

“I say,” Aramis chuckled. “Looks like some of our brothers who were standing guard over the king and queen are trying to go to their rescue.”

“Without skates?” Athos brow rose ever higher as he recognized Bernard, Francois, Thierry and Raul all slip sliding there way to where their Majesties fell. Then he noticed the king and queen laughing hysterically as those same four guards all fell on their rumps.

“Mon dieu!” Aramis and Porthos held their sides, they were laughing so hard that it began to hurt.

Seeing d’Artagnan waving at them to join him, Athos called out. “I like to live safely, boy!”

“You don’t know what you’re missing!” d’Artagnan yelled back.

Seeing everyone splayed on the ice, Athos retorted chuckling. “I believe I do!”

“There go their Majesties again,” Porthos shook his head, “gluttons for punishment.”

“They’ll both be sporting bruises on top of bruises by tomorrow morning at this rate,” Aramis grinned.

“As well as Bernard and company,” Athos’s eyes twinkled.

“I’d say our pup has everything nearly in hand,” Aramis rubbed his gloved hands together as the cold seeped in. “I’m all for a glass of warmed wine.”

“Good idea,” Porthos grunted. Standing out in this cold wasn’t his idea of fun.

“An excellent plan,” Athos agreed as all three of them headed back to the garrison and left the ice skating to those more daring or perhaps foolish.


	16. A Sledding We Will Go!

"What's d'Artagnan doing?" Porthos asked as he watched the boy pulling what looked like a flat board on blades of some sort.

"Ah, yes," Aramis smiled and nudged the larger man in the side. "He's going sled riding."

"What the deuce do you mean by *sled riding*?" Porthos had never heard of such a thing.

"You don't see it done much around here but probably where d'Artagnan's from it is a winter delight," Aramis watched as their youngest had several children already sitting on the sled, clapping their hands at the prospect that awaited them.

"What they gonna ride the snow on that contraption?" Porthos still didn't understand this concept.

"Oue," Aramis waved his hand in the air. "But first they have to find a large hill and they'll start at the top and glide on the snow until they reach the bottom." Aramis pointed to the front of the sled. "Those bars in the front of the sled are used to steer it so they don't hit any objects or a person who has the misfortune to be in their way."

"Sounds right dangerous like that ice skatin' they did yesterday," Porthos grunted. He wasn't a fan of cold weather to begin with and snow was on the top of that list. Paris could have harsh winters and he'd rather stay snug in a warm place in front of a roaring fire when that occurred, unless of course he was on a mission.

"Oh I say," Aramis chuckled. "Look who's pulling the other sled behind the boy."

"Oy! I don't believe my eyes... Athos?" Porthos snorted. "I think d'Artagnan's rubbed off on the old fellow."

"You think?" Aramis's eyes sparkled merrily. "I see more children waiting over near the barracks. I wonder if they have another sled," Aramis mused. "I could offer my services."

"Ya ain't gonna be the only one havin' fun," Porthos laughed. "Guessin' I'll help out as well."

So both men strolled over to d'Artagnan and asked him if he needed some extra muscle.

"Oui," d'Artagnan smiled shyly, glancing back at an amused Athos. "There are two more sleds in the barn. This way the other children won't have that long a wait."

"Right then," Aramis nodded, grabbing a hold of Porthos arm. He steered them both past the waiting youngsters into the barn. When they came out with two sleds, the children erupted into cheers. "Well, mon ami, our fans awaits us."

"This should be interestin'," Porthos growled. "Just don't get any smart ideas, Aramis."

"Moi?" Aramis chuckled. "Would I do that to you?"

"Yeah, right you sure would," Porthos said firmly. "I ain't ridin' that thing."

Having heard their conversation, d'Artagnan started laughing. "Porthos, it's perfectly safe."

"Uh huh," I ain't believin' that for a second," Porthos grunted.

++++

An hour later found Porthos sliding down a hill on the *feared sled* with a little girl sitting in front of him and two little boys hanging on for dear life sitting behind him. The huge Musketeer had a wide grin spread over his face.

“So much for Porthos not liking snow,” Aramis chuckled as he, Athos and d’Artagnan exchanged amused smiles.

“What are you three standin’ around for!” Porthos hollered out. “There’s kids waitin’ their turn!”

“I guess that was our summons,” Athos clapped d’Artagnan on the back with Aramis close behind. All three men laughed the whole way back up the hill to the remaining children.

The End (for now, eh?)


	17. Christmas Pageant Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this up yesterday but it took 2 days of madly trying to get my car to a garage after having a dead battery and having to go to work as well.  
> I think this will end my Xmas drabbles and I'll continue on with Crossroads.  
> To all my faithful followers, my thanks and I hope to continue especially once season 2 starts up.  
> Ho Ho Ho! And a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to All!
> 
> ++++

"D'Art looks right smart leading the parade, don't he?" Porthos punched Athos lightly in the arm as he and his brothers watched the horse drawn sleigh lead off the small Christmas parade.

"Belle and the others never looked finer," Aramis boasted, as if he had taken part in decking the horses out.

"I particularly like d'Artagnan's Santa hat," Athos pointed out. He was chuckling as the part of the hat that held the jingle bell kept floating in the boy's face as d'Artagnan struggled with it. Athos felt the hat was winning.

"Those the kids that are gonna sing tonight?" Porthos referred to the children bouncing up and down in excitement within the sleigh, making it sway precariously on its blades.

"Oui," Aramis nodded. "Oh I say, what a pretty sight." He watched as a mixture of about three dozen people, from the streets of Paris, the court and palace, walked behind the sleigh holding candles which flickered gently in the light breeze that was blowing this evening. It cast a lovely glow as the procession walked by.

"That's right smarter than those candles that caused our Christmas tree in the courtyard to burn," Porthos snorted. "Nothin' stupider than putting them on a tree."

"Don't let the ladies hear you say that," Aramis warned. "It was their idea in the first place."

"I think the tinsel brings out the best in our tree," Athos remarked as the candlelight made the tinsel sparkle even more. Then what he saw next really surprised him. "What in the world!" he murmured, watching as a horse drawn wagon rolled by containing people in costume depicting the stable scene of the baby Jesus's birth.

“Wonder who came up with that idea?” Aramus mused to his brothers.

“Probably d’Art,” Porthos grunted. “Kid’s had his hand in most of the goin’ ons for this event.”

“Well, gents,” Treville placed his hands on the backs of Athos and Porthos, “we’re at the tail end of the parade... get a move on.”

All the Musketeers gathered together as the wagon passed by and formed straight rows as they followed behind it. The soldiers marched proudly in their uniforms as they headed toward the palace where the small parade would end.

++++

*Inside the Royal Palace*

Everyone adored the children’s choir as they belted out their lovely Christmas songs. But it was when d’Artagnan sang *Ave Maria* that tears began to fall from most of the women present. Such was the quality of the boy’s voice.

“D’Art’s missed his calling,” Porthos’s rough voice softened as he too wiped a tear that escaped his eye.

“Lad has quite a set of pipes on him,” Aramis said, no more prouder to be d’Artagnan’s friend than now. As he shared warm looks with Athos and Porthos he knew they felt the same.

“Extremely beautiful.” Athos was stunned, never expecting d’Artagnan hid such a natural talent from them. Another one actually when he cared to think on it. The boy’s first talent was how he handled a blade. “I will take him to task over keeping this from his brothers.”

“I’m sure our youngest has more surprises in store for us, mon ami,” Aramis laughed.

So after quite an enthusiastic response to d’Artagnan’s song, which had the youngster blushing profusely, it was on to Christmas games for the children while the adults mingled. The king had hired several musicians who continuously played holiday songs while his Majesty's staff made sure the buffet table was filled with food and beverages for all present to enjoy.

Running over to his friends, d’Artagnan was pleased all had turned out better than he had hoped for. “Well?” he examined all their faces anxiously.

“An exemplary job, d’Artagnan,” Athos hugged the lad close.

“Well done,” Aramis too clasped the boy to him.

“Fine job, boyo,” Porthos nearly crushed d’Artagnan in his massive arms until the child complained and wriggled free.

“I’m just happy the petites got through their songs without mishap,” d’Artagnan heaved a great sigh of relief making the others snort in amusement.

“Considering how your earlier rehearsal went I’d have worried too,” Athos admitted.

“D’Artagnan,” King Louis hailed the young man, waving his hand for d’Artagnan to come over to him.

“Go, go,” Porthos gently pushed the lad in his Majesty’s direction.

“Yes, sire,” d’Artagnan worried something had happened as he rushed.

“You have my deepest thanks for orchestrating nearly this entire event.” King Louis beamed with pleasure then whispered low. “And for buying all those presents for me as well.”

Bowing his head, d’Artagnan smiled. “It was my honor to be of help to you in any capacity I could.” Feeling a light touch on his arm, d’Artagnan turned his head slightly and saw Queen Anne beside him. She took his hand and led him toward the huge Christmas tree all decked out with red ribbons and sparkling ornaments that stood in the center of the great hall. D’Artagnan followed her gaze to a huge present under the tree that had his name on it.

“Go ahead and open it,” Queen Anne urged. “It’s our small way of saying thank you. Not for just all of this tonight but for everything you do on a daily basis and what you’ve come to mean to Louis and myself.”

Momentarily stunned by the queen’s words, d’Artagnan couldn’t get his mouth to work. When he finally could manage a word or two it nearly came out as a croak. “I wasn’t expecting anything,” he glanced back and forth between her and the king. “I don’t know what to say,” d’Artagnan whispered.

“A polite thank you after you’ve seen what it is will suffice,” King Louis said softly, earning a huff of laughter from d’Artagnan and his wife.

Kneeling, d’Artagnan made haste as he tore through the gayly decorated gift. To say he was astonished would be putting it quite too mildly when he saw the elegantly crafted, hand-tooled saddle. Gliding his hands over the exquisite work reverently, tears pooled in his eyes. “This is for me?”

“Unless your name’s not d’Artagnan,” Queen Anne quipped.

Standing back up, d’Artagnan wanted to show his appreciation by hugging their Majesties but didn’t think it quite appropriate.

Seeing the indecision on the boy’s face, King Louis clucked and made the first move, wrapping his arms around d'Artagnan and pulling the lad toward him. Louis could feel the youngster trembling in his arms as d'Artagnan hugged him in return.

“I’ve never had anything so grand,” d’Artagnan ducked his head after the king released him. “My thanks to you both.” He then turned and embraced Queen Anne who had patiently awaited her turn.

“We were delighted to do it for you as well, d’Artagnan,” Queen Anne added. “Have you exchanged your gifts yet with Athos, Porthos and Aramis?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan grinned. “I think Saint Nick must be worn out just from visiting me.”

“You’ll have to show us your presents from your friends later, d’Artagnan,” King Louis winked at him. “I have it on good authority that they were nearly as nice as the saddled.”

Before d’Artagnan could respond, he was torn away by a bevy of children that wanted him and Constance to play games with them.

“And isn’t that what Christmas is all about?” Queen Anne hummed. “Celebrating the birth of the Christ child with little children,” and as she gazed fondly at d’Artagnan and Constance playing with tiny Isabella she added, “and the big ones as well.”

The End


End file.
